


my heart is returned to sister winter

by timeladyleo



Series: the knapp-shappey-shipwrights have a horrible christmas! [6]
Category: Cabin Pressure
Genre: Hospitals, Hurt No Comfort, Suicide
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-11
Updated: 2020-12-11
Packaged: 2021-03-11 05:27:09
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,148
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28009941
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/timeladyleo/pseuds/timeladyleo
Summary: They didn’t understand it. Not Arthur, they thought. Not our Arthur. Cheery old Arthur, dopey Arthur, ‘I’m always happy’ Arthur. It had to have been some sort of accident.
Relationships: Arthur Shappey & Herc Shipwright, Carolyn Knapp-Shappey & Arthur Shappey, Douglas Richardson & Arthur Shappey
Series: the knapp-shappey-shipwrights have a horrible christmas! [6]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2039773
Comments: 2
Kudos: 10





	my heart is returned to sister winter

**Author's Note:**

> i'm fully sorry for this. it's been kind of in the works for a while, but this felt like a good time to finish it at last. 
> 
> the title is from 'Sister Winter' by Sufjan Stevens, but this fic developed a little playlist of its own and for a long time was called _haunted by fluorescent lights (open your eyes and breathe)_ from the Shinedown song 'Breathe'. and i think that pretty much tells you everything you need to know about this fic.

They didn’t understand it. _Not Arthur_ , they thought. _Not our Arthur_. Cheery old Arthur, dopey Arthur, ‘I’m always happy’ Arthur. It had to have been some sort of accident.

Herc had barely spoken since he had found him. Carolyn sat with him, in the hospital, holding his hand. This wasn’t a time to be posturing about public affection, not now, not now when they needed to hold each other close in case either of them floated away. Like they were the only ones tethering each other.

 _Why didn’t you tell us?_ Douglas had demanded. His anger wasn’t towards Carolyn, wasn’t really anger at all. _Why didn’t he tell us?_ Unspoken, _we could have helped_. There were no answers, and a situation that Douglas couldn’t solve was one that left him in his own spiral of helplessness. He didn’t like feeling helpless. Carolyn had had to order him to go home, to sleep. She hadn’t said anything about the way he’d told the nurse that he was family.

She hadn’t told them because it wasn’t their business. It was Arthur’s. What a mistake that felt, now. Herc’s hands were cold. Carolyn held them tight and tried not to notice how much her own looked like a skeleton’s. Bones. Hospital lights making shadows into valleys.

Why hadn’t he told them?

Memories of Christmases past brushed past her as another night drew in through another early afternoon. The lights. Arthur had always loved the lights, shining out into the dark, he had wanted to hold them and hoard them and look at them to make himself smile. He had always collected things that he could hold onto, to look at again to make himself smile. She had known in which drawer they were hidden, safe from his Father, she had protected his collections of feathers and rocks from Gordon who wanted nothing more than to throw them away.

Tinsel hung limply over a vending machine, old and worn. Old and well-used. She squeezed Herc’s hand more tightly. He just stared, eyes on the monitor. Steady pulses. Flickering lights that meant something she didn’t understand.

How many days had passed? They were blurring now, smearing into one sickly stretch of time punctuated by toilet breaks and hospital food and snatches of sleep on Herc’s shoulder, always there. Always sitting in that chair, blue fabric, worn and bobbled. This was where they were, now, this room, these halls, where they had been for so long that memories of the life before corridors and empty beds felt distant. Echoes of the beeping everywhere.

Theresa visited, with Martin, brought them some real food instead of a card. Martin’s eyes were red raw. There were too many cards on the little table, an overflow of them. He must have known that so many people loved him. He must have, because he loved them too. He had always loved people.

Herc slept, mouth open. Peaceful, almost. Carolyn hoped he was having good dreams, or no dreams. Anything to take his mind away from this. The dull, white light made him look sick, deepened the lines on his face. She didn’t dare think what it did to her.

It was so easy to blame, to try and figure out whose fault it was, to try and tell herself she should have noticed, should have done something else, should have done something years ago when she’d been smaller and weaker and Gordon’s words had buried into them, left them both like this, left Arthur thinking he was so small and stupid. Why hadn’t she done more?

She could forgive him, always. Everyone else was so swept up in the why, disbelief that unhappy thoughts could even cross Arthur’s mind. None of them had held his hand in waiting rooms to talk to someone else who would wilfully misunderstand him, had to argue with doctors and therapists to get something done. None of them had had to remind him to take his medication every day. Did they even know he was on it? It had never been relevant before.

But just because it made sense to her, didn’t make it any easier.

Herc was asleep. Arthur would have liked the way the nurse assumed that Herc was his dad. It was one of the reasons why she liked Herc so much – not the only one, of course, but so many times she’d invited people back to the house and they’d looked at Arthur like he was for entertainment value only. Monkey dancing in a zoo. So many people dismissed him out of hand. Herc had only ever respected him.

She just hoped he wasn’t reliving the scene in his head. The body on the floor. The smell. The way his hands shook as he called 999, the way he had dropped to his knees to offer his helpless hands. The way Carolyn had found him cradling Arthur’s head, the bathroom floor yellow from the bare bulb. His yell for her still echoed around her head, a horrible ghost reminding her how his voice had broken, how it had chilled her blood. The numbness of everything that followed.

“Carolyn.” She jumped, turning to see Douglas stood at the door. Did she look that tired? No, she probably looked worse. She glanced back at Herc and, careful not to stir him, got up. Douglas’ voice was quiet. “How is he?”

“I thought you were going home.”

“I did. Carolyn, I’ve been gone all night. It’s almost lunchtime.”

She opened her mouth in a silent _oh_ , trying to figure out where all the seconds between now and yesterday had crawled away to. Everything was so muddled in her head. Douglas was going to tell her she needed to sleep now, and he was right. She was so tired. But she couldn’t leave. She couldn’t face the idea of dreaming. She needed to be there when he woke up. She needed to be there for him.

“I’m going to get something to eat. What do you want?”

He was right not to ask if she was hungry, but instead demand that she eat. Under any other circumstance, agreeing with Douglas this much might have been worrying, but summoning the energy to argue was too hard. Right now, all she wanted was to be looked after, and she couldn’t complain that it was coming from Douglas, who had always saved them before. Douglas who just wanted to save them again. She just didn’t see how he could.

And then he was gone.

The shutting door startled Herc, his eyes snapping open, looking first at Arthur, then to Carolyn, still stood at the door. She returned to her seat, settling beside him again, glad for his presence. He kissed her temple, held her hand tightly to say _it’ll be alright. It has to be alright. He’ll wake up soon._

She didn’t know what they’d do otherwise.

**Author's Note:**

> I'm on tumblr, [sircarolyn](http://sircarolyn.tumblr.com/).


End file.
